


Sing You A Lullaby

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- non magic, Busking, Cerebral Palsy, Disabled Character, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Trans Sirius, Welsh Remus, hitchhiker Sirius, modern marauders, music critic Remus, musician sirius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travelling for his job, Remus Lupin knows the one thing he should not do is pick up random hitchhikers.  And yet when he sees the ripped jeans, wild smile, and guitar on his back, he can't help himself. </p><p>“Don’t do it, Lupin,” Remus ordered himself, even as his hand reached for the hand-brake. “He could be a serial killer. It doesn’t matter how good looking he is. Ted Bundy was a total lady-killer. Literally. Don’t.”</p><p>And yet here he was slowing down to a crawl, then a stop. And he could see in his mirror the bloke sauntering up with that smirk still in place like he just bloody knew Remus was going to pull over.</p><p>Because of course he was."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing You A Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So I was going to write this for the prompt fic, but instead it got totally long and out of hand so now I'm just posting it for the hell of things. It's a hitchhiker trope sent as a prompt by deducing-nerds.
> 
> Also thanks to trippywolfstar for the chat and support. B&B squad for life.
> 
> And massive massive thanks to welshmoony for help with the Welsh translations and the chats about Wales which is exactly what I needed.
> 
> x

Remus sighed into his phone, trying not to roll his eyes repeatedly. He was in the middle of bloody nowhere with a sliver of passable signal, trying desperately to listen to what Nym was saying about the meet-up, and hoping like hell she understood what _he_ was saying about the delay because he absolutely would not be in London on time to get Teddy by Thursday.

“…to leave. And it’s not fair to get my mum to do it. So can you tell me again when you’ll be back?”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the biting chill of the metal from the boot of the car through his jeans. He was leaning on one crutch, watching the rubber tip digging into the soft soil, and winced as a lorry went tearing by, the wind from it nearly knocking him onto his arse. “Saturday. I will be in London Friday well before tea. I was given an ultimatum, alright? I didn’t want to take this job but it’s on my way.”

“Cardiff is _not_ on your way,” Nym retorted.

“Well it’s as bloody well good as,” Remus said. “I’m not doing this on purpose. I’m attempting to make a living wage, Nym, so I can support my half of the expenses and you know it’s not easy for me. I can’t just go turning down jobs willy nilly.”

There was a long pause before she sighed. “Yeah I…I get it, Remus. I do. He’s just…he misses you and putting my own plans on hold was not part of the agreement.”

“I have done this absolutely never,” Remus argued back. “It’s not like it’s some habit.”

“Yes, except it feels like this job is getting more and more demanding,” she said, her voice tense. “Where will you draw the line?”

“Well you can leave that to me,” Remus barked back. “Anyway I’m stood on the fucking side of the road because I can’t chat and drive, and the longer I’m here, the longer it’s going to actually take me to get home.”

“Are you stopping by…”

“Yes,” he said swiftly, interrupting her. “I can’t stay there—I’ll be at the Hog’s Head. I’ve already phoned Aberforth and he’s got a room for me so if you need me and can’t get through on my mobile, you can reach me there.”

“You do realise you could just drive straight through to Cardiff and…”

“And you know I cannot sit in a car that long,” he bit, hating that he had to remind her after all this time about his limitations. “Besides the show isn’t even until Thursday night.”

“What sort of shite musician plays a venue on a Thursday night.”

“A rising indie star,” Remus said dryly. “Anyway I’m going now. Kiss Ted for me and I’ll see you Friday.” With that, he hit the end button possibly a little harder than he ought to have, but his nerves were frayed, he was aching from the hours he’d already been behind the wheel, and honestly he just wanted to be done with it.

He wanted to hate his job on her behalf, and hate it on Teddy’s behalf because travelling round all of Britain wasn’t his idea of a good time. It meant missing important things like Teddy’s footie matches and school plays if he wasn’t careful. But having a disability which severely limited his mobility—and often led people to believing he was incapable of the smallest tasks on his own—he couldn’t be very fussy about it. Especially when the job came with a very decent wage offering him the opportunity to have a nice flat in London, close to Nym’s parents and Teddy’s school and the freedom to not worry about where his next meal was coming from, or to wonder if he’d have to choose between paying bills and buying Ted new trainers.

Grabbing his crutch, he moved along the side of the car, bracing himself on the metal as he flung the back open, banging his crutch in next to the other. He then opened the driver’s door, sat down on it and used his hand to lift his left leg by his loose jeans. As his foot heaved up over the side, he glanced down and saw a hole worn into the side of his shoe.

“Buggering fucking hell,” he swore. And not for the first time, he wondered why with all these scientific advances there hadn’t been a type of rubber for people like him so he could actually spend money on a pair of trainers and not wear through the edges of them in a month. Cerebral Palsy shoes or…something. Okay it was a shite label but he wasn’t in advertising for a reason. Either way, he knew the answer—the industry catered to fashion, not disability accommodation.

Deciding to ignore the shoe issue for now, he grabbed his other leg, yanking it inside, and switched on the car once more. He still had another two hours to go before he reached the tiny village he’d grown up in, and really all he wanted was a soft bed, something warm and comforting for tea, and a good, long sleep.

*** 

Remus was forty minutes away from the Hog’s Head, the sun was starting to dip low into the sky, and off in the distance, he noticed something. A person stood on the side of the road clearly hitchhiking. He couldn’t make out much straight away, but as he got closer, his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

He was short and lithe, wearing artfully torn jeans, a white t-shirt, leather jacket, and clunky motorbike boots. His long hair was plaited down his back, a silver ring adorning the thumb he had out, his narrow eyes crinkled, an arrogant smirk on his face which said, I know I’m gorgeous and you know you want to pick me up.

Remus had never ever in his life picked up someone hitching for a ride. Ever. Who did that sort of thing these days with trains and uber drivers and old University mates who would cart you round for less than a pizza and half a dozen pints at the local?

But bloody hell if he wasn’t curious. Especially after seeing the guitar strapped to his back.

He looked like something out of an indie film—a down on his luck musician just trying to make it out there on the road. At the very least he looked like he ought to be in films, he was so damned pretty. He was also, Remus noticed as he got even closer, sporting some serious road-rash on his chin and collarbone.

Which was weird.

“Don’t do it, Lupin,” Remus ordered himself, even as his hand reached for the hand-brake. “He could be a serial killer. It doesn’t matter how good looking he is. Ted Bundy was a total lady-killer. Literally. Don’t.”

And yet here he was slowing down to a crawl, then a stop. And he could see in his mirror the bloke sauntering up with that smirk still in place like he just bloody _knew_ Remus was going to pull over.

Because of _course_ he was.

The back door opened first, and in came the guitar and a small case. Then the passenger door and he slid in and clapped Remus on the shoulder like he was an old friend. “Thanks, mate. I didn’t think anyone would be down this road for the night.”

“We are in the middle of nowhere,” Remus agreed, knowing the long, green, spaces in Wales which didn’t boast a lot of traffic all the time. Which was one of the reasons he loved coming home. “Er. Where to?”

The bloke laughed, and squeezed Remus’ shoulder a little tighter. “Honestly? Wherever you’re going.”

“You’re not going to murder me and turn me into a lamp, are you?”

“Not on my agenda,” he said, his grin even wider. Remus found he liked listening to his voice. It was a bit high, but with a rather smoky quality to it, and Remus had to reckon he was probably a good singer. “You don’t expect to get paid in sex, do you?”

Remus coughed, then stuttered, then swiped his hand down his face. “That’s a no. Why are you hitching, exactly? Unless you really are one of those indie film types. Nomadic and busking.”

He rolled his eyes. “Actually I was up in Perth, and on my way back to London but I had a rather unfortunate accident—again in the middle of sodding nowhere. Had to leave my baby behind in a field of sheep.”

Remus blinked rapidly. “Is that a true story?”

“Fraid so.”

“Why the hell?” Remus asked, shaking his head. “You really couldn’t phone for a ride or…mechanic or something?”

“My mobile was already dead by the time I crashed and I literally must get back to London. I have one stop on the way, but the London thing is important.”

“If I asked what it was, would you tell me?”

The stranger eyed Remus for a long moment, then shrugged. “You seem alright so…yeah. My Godson was just born. A month early, so I was unprepared. Don’t get me started on the fact that I missed the birth itself, but yeah. I need to be there.”

Licking his lips, Remus sighed and then fumbled under his seat, producing a small, green cube with a wire poking out of the side. He thrust it at the stranger who took it with a quirked brow. “You can charge your mobile on this.”

The grey eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Portable charger. Technology—what a wonder, yeah?”

Instead of fumbling for his mobile straight away, the stranger instead extended a long-fingered hand—nails polished black with flecks of glitter which Remus found oddly enticing—and shook Remus’ hand. “I’m Si.”

“Remus.” His hand was soft in Si’s, keeping his grip firm but not tight, and it made his new companion smile. “This is probably the stupidest thing I could offer but…I’ve got a room in a little village not far from here and you’re welcome to stay there if you need to crash for the night. I’m heading off to Cardiff in the morning.”

Si’s face remained passive, but he nodded. “Honestly a decent meal and good sleep sounds amazing. Thank you, Remus.”

Nodding, Remus decided that if he was a Ted Bundy—he wasn’t ruling that out just yet—at least he was a polite one. He pulled back onto the road, leaning back in his seat, and wondering if he’d actually manage to survive the next forty minutes with this total stranger.

*** 

For his part, Si was an alright conversationalist. He didn’t offer a lot of details about himself apart from loving music, and his godson—and his best mate who was practically his brother. He had no family to speak of except a brother who was now working for some PR firm in Perth—which was why Si was there in the first place.

“He’s doing better than I am technically,” Si said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I should be pissed off with him about it but actually I’m a bit proud. I’d never tell him, though.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Because telling your brother you’re proud would be the worst thing, eh?”

“It’s our dynamic,” Si said, and grinned in a way which made Remus’ stomach flutter a bit. He clamped down on that shit hard. He had no time to be fancying random music-playing hitchhikers on the side of some Scottish road. “Anyway he’s going to be proper Scot soon so I’m going to have to hate him on principal.”

Remus raised a brow. “On principal.”

Si gave him a challenging stare. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand what that’s about. You’re Welsh, you have to automatically hate me a little.”

“Yes I suppose, but it all comes from a place of extreme self-loathing as I do live in London so I am a traitor to my people.”

Si’s barking laugh also sent something shooting straight up Remus’ spine and he knew he was in trouble. “Fair enough. So…that’s my story. Sort of. Without any real details as we are strangers and mortal enemies…on principal. So what about you, hmm? What’s your story?”

Remus gripped the wheel tightly. “Not a lot to tell, honestly. I’m a dad…”

“Married?” Si asked swiftly.

“Single,” Remus said. “My son lives between myself and his mum. I have a job which mostly accommodates the whole parenting thing.”

“Which is?”

Remus contemplated lying, or just evading the question. Instead he said, “I work as a music critic for the Daily Prophet. I travel round and review live shows.”

“Oh break my heart, Remus,” Si moaned. “You’re one of those soul-suckers.”

Remus blinked, giving him an incredulous look. “I’m quite fair, you know.”

“Any publication which works with the likes of Rita Skeeter…”

Remus groaned. “She’s a sodding bitch and she runs the gossip column. I review music, and I don’t actually work with her,” he defended in haste.

Si rolled his eyes, but his lips were quirked up into a very small smile. “I suppose I can overlook that one thing. But just the one.” He licked his lips and glanced from the back seat to the hand controls and Remus knew where he was going next, mentally preparing himself. “Was it an accident, or something else?”

“Cerebral palsy,” Remus said in a dry tone. He waited for the flinch, or for the ‘I’m sorry’, or that look saying that suddenly he no longer saw Remus as a person, and saw him as disabled, _then_ a sort of person. 

Instead Si reached between his legs and pulled up his mobile. He pushed the button on the side, and as it dinged to life, Si grinned at him. “If I’m lucky, I’ll have a photo album’s worth of text messages off James of the baby. Do you like babies?”

“I mentioned I was a dad, yeah?”

Si waved his statement off. “Lily’s a mum now but she is far from a person who likes babies. Other people’s babies, anyway. Reckon she likes her own well enough.”

Remus couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Fair enough. I don’t mind them. They’re fairly cute. Like puppies.”

Si barked another laugh, then scrolled through and made a high-pitched squeak. “Oh bloody hell he’s so _cute_. Bit like an alien but oh.” He shoved the mobile at Remus who nearly ran off the road for a second, but did catch a glimpse of a small infant with a squashed, post-birth face. He had dark skin and wild black hair and was cute in a way only new-borns could be.

“What’s he called?”

“Harry,” Si said fondly, staring at the picture in a way that was so endearing Remus kind of wanted to kiss him—then kick himself in the arse because _what_ was he doing? “Harij, actually, and Lily was all for it but James said that having to suffer a Hindi name in England listening to the white people violently butcher it is unfair to do to a child.”

“Reckon he knows best,” Remus muttered. He lifted a hand, drawing his fingers through his untamed curls he hadn’t bothered with in days, and sighed a little. There was a road sign, weathered and worn, barely visible as it hadn’t been maintained in probably ever—but it meant they were minutes away.

“Bloody fucking hell you weren’t kidding about this being a small village,” Si said as he saw the old cottages going by. “How many people live here?”

Remus couldn’t help his chuckle. “Well when I left for uni I think we were somewhere round seventy six?”

“Shut up.” Si pushed his nose against the window, peering off into the distance where the single church sat in the distance and remembered the furious expression on his mum’s face when he had gone one Sunday just to see what all the fuss was about.

He could recall her fury at him, and the fear in her eyes that he’d somehow lose his identity when she’s chosen Lyall’s home instead of her own—away from any other Jewish family. She’d gone a bit overboard after that, making his upbringing super Jewish which only served to make him the weird kid—something he most certainly didn’t appreciate.

But he didn’t hate growing up here, either. It was gorgeous and he hadn’t ever really been treated differently. He only realised he was different when his mum would take him to specialists in London and then he’d see people on the streets _staring_ at his crutches and his stiff-legged gait.

When he’d worked at the Hog’s Head after Aberforth took him in, he’d just been Remus. And people liked him here. His heart clenched a little with how much he missed it, and the only thing that made it feel a little better was remembering Teddy’s grin.

“You alright, mate?”

Remus blinked, and looked over at Si who was staring at him with a concerned expression. “Yeah. It’s just been a long drive and my body doesn’t enjoy long drives like this.”

Si didn’t look like he entirely believed him, but he let it go as Remus navigated the narrow streets to a pub which looked like it had been built a thousand years ago. It had a wooden carving of an actual hog’s head hanging over the door, and the windows were filthy and lit with a dim light, flickering like a candle.

“Jesus. Did we just slip into Authrian times?”

Remus laughed. “Just wait until we get inside.” He pulled his car round the side of the pub and switched it off. It was nearing full dark now, but there was enough light that he’d be able to navigate without worrying about tripping and falling.

Easing his legs out of the car, he turned and shuffled toward the back, opening the door to grab his crutches. Si came round the side, and Remus felt him watching, but when he glanced up, the man’s face was fairly passive and patient, his hip leant against the boot, arms crossed.

“Do you want to take your things inside?” Remus asked.

Si worried his bottom lip, then shrugged. “After we eat?”

Remus gave a short nod, then carefully led the way in. He appreciated Si adjusting his gait, not trying to rush him, but not hanging back awkwardly as Remus made his way to the door. He also didn’t rush to help open it, and stepped in with a slight head-nod as Remus held the door open.

The pub was all-but empty, which wasn’t a surprise for a Thursday night. Remus recognised two of the blokes sat at the bar holding pints, talking low under their breath. He saw Rosmerta polishing glasses, and by her lack of response it was clear she’d been informed by Aberforth that Remus would be by for the night.

She merely slid a key onto the top of the bar, which Remus would grab after they’d eaten. Looking round, he lifted one crutch and pointed with the tip. “That alright for you?”

Si was busy staring round at the ancient, wood décor and he huffed a laugh. “You weren’t bloody kidding, were you?”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“This looks straight out of Merlin.”

“Because that show was absolutely accurate,” Remus remarked wryly realising he was giving a bit of his nerd status away, but what did it matter. He wasn’t murdered yet, and he was about to have a nice sit-down meal with the fittest bloke he had seen in ages. 

Si followed Remus to the table nearest to the fireplace which was lit, but left with nothing more than glowing embers. He eased himself into the chair, then set his crutches off to the side and clasped his hands on the table.

Aberforth appeared a moment later, swiping floured hands on an apron. His beard was shorter than the last time Remus had been round, but still full and very white, and apart from a few more wrinkles near the sides of his glasses, he looked the same. 

Leaning over the table, Aberforth gave Si a long, slow look. “Mae ‘di fod yn amser ers I fi gweld ti, Remus.”

Remus glanced at Si whose eyes had gone wide, mouth dropped open a bit. “Sori, fi ‘di bod yn brysur.”

Aberforth huffed a bit. “A mae gin ti ffrind?”

Remus glanced at Si and licked his lips. Friend was a bit of a stretch. “Odd e ar och yr heol. Mae’n edrych yn digon diniwed.”

Aberforth raised a brow. “Prydferth, hefyd.”

Remus almost laughed. Pretty. Yes, Sirius was, in fact, very pretty. So pretty it made him a bit weak in the knees and made him compromise his own potential safety by picking him up by the side of the road. “Ie. Sylwais hyna.”

“Bydd yn ofalus,” he finally said, then stepped back. “Usual, eh? For the both of you,” he asked, slipping into English.

Si visibly relaxed and Remus shrugged. “Yes, please.”

When Aberforth wandered off back through the kitchen doors, Si let out a low whistle. “Fucking Welsh.”

Remus raised a brow. “You’re lucky there’s only two other people in this room and both of them are stone deaf.”

Si barked a low laugh. “M’only saying I didn’t know people our age actually spoke Welsh.”

“People in this village barely speak English, you realise. I don’t even think I spoke English until I was fifteen.”

Si bit down on his lower lip and gave Remus a careful look. “So, mortal enemies?”

“I think I can overlook it,” Remus said with a laugh.

Si looked oddly delighted, and gave Aberforth a careful smile as sandwiches and chips were placed on the table, along with a couple pints. The old man didn’t return the gesture, but had the courtesy to look at least a little more friendly than he had before.

When he ambled off, Remus bit off the end of a chip and said, “After this he’s going to bring us some of Rosmerta’s cake. I always take it up to the room.”

Si lifted up the top half of the sandwich and peered down at the slices of chicken. “Are we sharing, Remus?”

“There’s not another, so yes. If it’s not too…I mean we can…” Remus was suddenly irritated with himself for fumbling with his words and he sighed.

“Well I’m not going to kill you in your sleep. And so long as you don’t kill me…I mean this place could have some straight from Sweeny Todd. How do I know this isn’t human sandwich?”

Remus took a large bite and grinned round it. “It might be, but it’s kosher.”

Si blinked, then barked a loud laugh drawing the attention of both men and Rosmerta. “Kosher. Really?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder. “Aberforth was the only one who bothered when I was a kid. Only Jew, as it were.”

“Shocking,” Si said, and Remus was impressed by his sarcasm. “Anyway I’m vegetarian.”

“Why?”

“Because I got taken in by James’ family and they’re Hindu and I don’t think I’ve had anything meat related since I was sixteen. You think your granddad would be offended?”

Remus blinked. “He’s not my old man. But no. If he’ll go out of my way to make my mum happy with imported Kosher food, I think he’ll not be fussed about a vegetarian not eating a chicken sandwich.” After a second, Remus tipped half his chips onto Si’s plate and shrugged off the smile.

They ate in a fair bit of silence after that, and Remus was surprised at how comfortable it was. He expected awkward glances, and wasn’t sure why he felt like he’d known this stranger nearly his entire life. A stranger he didn’t know a surname for, or really where he’d come from, or his proper job—assuming he had one.

But before long most of the food was gone, and the pints, and Aberforth was true to his routine and had come out with a small paper box full of an extra large slice of Rosmerta’s chocolate cake. He gave Remus a pat on the shoulder and muttered something about him being still mad, but always welcome.

Remus rose after that, grabbing his crutches, and the pair walked to the bar where Remus swiped the key. He led the way to the stairs, then let out a small sigh as he glanced up. As a kid, he’d perfected a swift crawl up and down, his stiff legs still more limber than they were now at what felt like the ancient age of twenty-six.

Turning to Si, he said, “You want to go grab your things from the car. I’ll wait.”

Si reluctantly took the key, then wandered out, and back in less than two minutes later with his small case and guitar strapped to his back. He looked at Remus, then the stairs. “I don’t want to be a shithead, but are you alright getting up those?”

Remus couldn’t decide if he wanted to be annoyed or not, and in the end went with ‘or not’ as Si had been mostly alright all evening. “Take one of these for me, yeah?” He handed one crutch over, and he appreciated that Si didn’t flinch because he’d seen it in able-bodied people before—like touching the crutch might make them catch something.

Instead Si slung it over his shoulder and said, “Me first?”

Remus laughed, then banged him the key. “Second door on the left.”

Si headed up, and Remus used the banister and one crutch to ease himself up too damn many stairs and when he reached the landing he was tired and looking forward to a long sleep. He used his single crutch like a cane as he made his way into the room, holding the wall for added support, and smiled a little at the sight of the room he’d once slept in as a teen.

The memories were bittersweet, losing both parents within ten months of each other, and wondering if he’d get shipped off to some random relative he had never met, forced away from his little village which loved him. Instead Aberforth had taken it upon himself to give Remus a place to sleep and a job, and the occasional shoulder to cry on because at the stoic age of sixteen being orphaned out of nowhere still hurt.

The bed was turned down, no surprise there as Rosmerta was as fussy as ever. There was an extra duvet folded at the end, and a comfy chair. Si had already banged down his case and guitar, and was now holding the crutch out.

“By the desk is fine,” Remus said, then handed off the second with a small grin as Si set them to the side. He groaned as he eased himself onto the bed, and leant down to untie his shoes. “My arse is going to ache for a week—and I didn’t even get a good shag out of it.” He then realised he’d said it aloud and looked up, mortified, into Si’s grinning face.

“More than I expected to know about you, Remus.” He eased himself into a chair and kicked one foot up on the desk as he undid the laces on his boot. “I’m gay too though.”

“Ah.”

Si chuckled. “Not propositioning you or anything. Just kindred spirits and all.”

Remus wanted to argue that was hardly the case, there were plenty of gay people in the world who were very much not like him, but there was something in Si’s eyes that Remus thought maybe he actually did get it. More than most.

“You want me to take the floor?”

Remus glanced round, then sighed. “Look, it’s a big bed and you might wake up to a cuddle but I honestly don’t mind. You’ve been on the road for a while, haven’t you?”

“Bit, yeah. But I was going to ring up James and see if he can get me a ride in the morning anyway. So I think I can be uncomfortable for another night.”

“Up to you,” Remus said.

Si licked his lips, then toed off his now untied boots. He raised his shirt up a little, a dark trail of hair going down toward his jeans Remus tried desperately not to stare at. “Can I tell you something I feel like I ought to? But if it bothers you I reckon I can head out and find some comfy patch of dirt to curl up on.”

Remus blinked slowly. “I…is this the part where you tell me you’re some sort of mass murderer or criminal or…something?”

The barest smile flickered across Si’s mouth. “I’m a trans man.”

Remus nodded, waiting for the rest, and then he realised that was it. “Oh. Oh. Um. That’s…why would that bother me?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Right. Okay. But…” Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to bring up the fact that he’d been heavily involved in LGBTQ+ organisations at uni and had several trans friends without sounding like the cis shithead who used the, “Well I have so many trans friends,” as an excuse to be an actual shithead about it. “Thank you for telling me.” He figured it was a better response than anything else he could have said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“But the bed sharing…”

“Si, I appreciate your concern, but just as many people who would be bothered by you would also be convinced they could actually catch cerebral palsy from my sneezes. I’m not saying I know what it’s like for you, but I know what dealing with shitty people entails. I’m alright.”

Si stared at him for a long moment, then grinned. “Cake?”

Remus let out a laugh as he shuffled backward onto the bed. “Yeah.”

*** 

Twenty minutes later and Remus had his mobile out, all of his photos of Teddy swiped through. “He looks exactly like you. He’s the spit of you. That’s so weird.”

Remus laughed. “He is. His mum hates it a little bit. We get on but we were really young and stupid. I was in a bad place and she had taken some anti-biotic with her pill and forgot. I thought my life was over, you know? I was eighteen, just decided not to take a gap year, and here she comes waltzing into my flat with a look like she wanted to set me on fire and tells me she’s pregnant. She spent three months wavering between keeping it or not.”

“What did you want?” Si asked, thumbing back to a particularly cute photo of Remus and Teddy wearing matching shades.

“Truth?” Remus dipped his spoon into the cake and took a small bite. “I wanted her to terminate the pregnancy. I thought we would be idiots to try and raise a kid. I mean, I had no idea if I’d be able to find a proper job—people have a bad habit of infantilising me. It’s worse with people whose speech is affected by CP, but once they see the crutches they think…well fuck, I don’t quite know what they think.”

“I get that,” Si said quietly. “You’ve no idea how much shit I get for my particular choices.” When Remus raised a brow, he shrugged. “People expect you to follow certain rules when you’re trans if you want to be considered valid. Like I’m fucking Pinocchio or something and need to use my money and say all the right things to the goddamn blue fairy so I can be a real boy. I know I’m good looking, and technically passing if I want to be. But these fucking cis gay shitheads want to know why, if I’m so rich, why didn’t I pander to what they want from me. Why wouldn’t I let them dictate how my gender should be presented—because clearly if they don’t accept me, I’m not valid.”

Remus dug his spoon into the cake, then offered it over to Si. “People are garbage.”

Si barked a laugh as he ate the bite, then licked the back of the spoon which made Remus go all wobbly again. “Cheers to that, mate. Let’s round them up and stick them all on some island somewhere and they can fuck themselves into oblivion.”

“Do you have enough money to buy an island?” Remus asked.

Si snorted and nudged him. “Not nearly. Once upon a time if I’d followed my parents’ path for me and married some creepy second cousin, I might have. But that was so far from going to happen.”

“Christ,” Remus muttered. “You English people are so fucking weird.”

“It’s true. All the inbreeding and colonising has really fucked us up.”

Remus laughed so hard his sides ached, and he pushed his face against Si’s shoulder. “Alright so you’re fairly rich, not enough to buy an island, but probably enough so you didn’t need to be hitching—though bike accident and mobile leads to desperate measures.”

“Maybe it was the universe leading me to someone who wasn’t so awful?” Si offered.

Remus flushed, but decided not to take the bait because really? He could not do this right now. “Anyway—weren’t you supposed to be ringing up your mate right now?”

Si’s face went through a handful of emotions Remus couldn’t read. Before he could even ask, Si leant over and with a slender thumb, swiped a bit of chocolate from the corner of Remus’ mouth and spoke so softly, it was barely above a whisper. “Got it.”

Remus fought back a strangled groan as he watched Si push the pad of his thumb into his mouth, then slid off the bed more gracefully than Remus had ever seen anyone move. He grabbed his mobile from the desk, then leant on the door as he opened it.

“Back in a few.”

When the door slammed, Remus pushed his head back against the wall and let himself want just a little, then self-deprecate because as flirtatious as Si was with him, they were going to part ways by morning. He’d likely never see him again and it’s not like Si would be interested at all.

With a sigh, Remus eased himself back to the edge of the bed and eased his jeans off, along with his shirt, leaving him in boxers and a t-shirt. He shoved the duvet to the side, then unfolded the second one to at least offer some barrier for Si, then laid back to wait.

*** 

Remus was half convinced Si had bailed by the time the door opened and he walked back in. He smelled a little bit of cigarettes, and had a smile on his face when he looked at Remus. “They do not like me down there.”

Remus sat up, blinking. “Did someone say something?”

Si barked a laugh as he eased himself out of his own jeans, and rummaged round his case for a clean t-shirt. He turned his back to Remus as he removed his t-shirt and binder, then threw on a black one. As he turned back round, he shrugged. “That woman behind the bar? Curly hair, steely eyes. She said something things.”

Remus’ eyes went wide. “What things?”

“Well, seeing as it was all in Welsh, I have no idea. But I reckon it wasn’t meant to be friendly. On a happier note, James says he wants to send you a bouquet of chocolate or something for saving my life—as he so dramatically puts it. He’s furious at me for not just finding a place to charge my phone but I can’t really regret it. I get to sleep next to a cute bloke.” Si then shrugged before pulling back the duvet and sliding in.

Remus flushed at the compliment and fought back the urge to just pull the duvet up over his head until morning. “You want to get the light? You have to be shattered.”

“I am, that.” Si reached over to flick off the lamp, and the only light left was that of the half-moon filtered through the dusty window. “James is sending a car in the morning.”

Remus sighed. It was just as well. “That has to be a relief.”

Si hummed a bit, like he was on the verge of saying more, but instead he just nuzzled a little bit closer, his forehead pressing against Remus’ shoulder, and eventually—against all odds—they both fell to sleep.

*** 

Remus would not pretend to feel aching disappointment to wake up and find the bed empty. There was a folded note on the desk he didn’t have the courage to read just yet as he climbed out of the bed and shrugged into his jeans. Grabbing his crutches, he gave his hair a cursory tug with his fingers, then eased his way back down the stairs.

He knew there would be porridge and some fruit, and if he was lucky, coffee. 

He slid onto the barstool and a moment later, Rosmerta appeared with a mug. “Kafe Botz.”

Remus’ couldn’t help his groan as he took the first sip and immediately rolled his eyes back. “Have I told you I love you?”

“Not enough lately.” She went silent a moment. “That friend of yours…”

“Not a friend,” Remus said, eyeing Aberforth who came out of the kitchen with porridge and strawberries. He slid them toward Remus and leant on the counter, clearly interested in being part of this. “He’d crashed his bike on the way back from Scotland.”

“English,” Rosmerta spat.

“My son is English,” Remus reminded her, and her face softened.

“And where is he, eh?”

Remus sighed. “With his mum, and I promise I’ll bring him round. I was just passing through for work.”

She looked tired, but less cross. “I overheard him on his mobile. That bloke from last night. Fancies you a great deal.”

Remus blinked. “I…what?”

“On some long chat with someone going on and on about you. Didn’t know I was there. Got very quiet when he spotted me and I told him if he hurts you, I’d be waiting with my kitchen knife.”

Remus chuckled. “He didn’t understand you.”

“Threats convey the same in all languages.”

“Yeah I think he did get the message. He’s not properly interested though, you know? Buggered off early.”

“Some car drove by and snatched him up,” Aberforth said, and shoved the untouched porridge at Remus. “He looked sad to be going.”

Remus didn’t want to begin to think on what that could possibly mean, so he tipped the strawberries into the bowl and stirred. He ate in silence, enjoying the coffee and trying his best not to think of the note upstairs, or the long drive ahead of him. He was supposed to focus tonight on some singer in some venue in Cardiff, but his head was out on the road with the lonely busker.

*** 

Remus left the village close to noon, after reading the note which didn’t offer much.

**Remus,  
Not even sure what to write. You do cuddle in your sleep though, you were right about that. I never thought I’d hate peeling myself away from a complete stranger. Or that one could make me feel at home and yet here I am. I thought about giving you my number but I decided to let the Universe have one more go of it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, right?**

**If not at least know I had the best sleep of my life. Thanks for the cake and the chat. You’re bloody fantastic.**

**Si-**

Remus wasn’t sure if he wanted to be hateful or not that Si hadn’t bothered to try and keep in contact. Maybe he was one of those types who liked to make a big show of things. Get Remus pining away and leave with an inflated ego.

Though if that were the case, wouldn’t Si have said something before this?

He checked the address and the time of the show before he left, trying his best not to think about the stranger. He saw the flyer attachment, it was incredibly hipster with a silhouette of the singer on stage holding a guitar to his chest. 

It read Sirius Black—Fallen Aristocrat.

Whatever that meant. Remus had seen worse, but he’d seen better. He was willing to bet there would be at least three Beatles covers, and some rap song done folk music style, but Gideon was so sure this bloke had a show worth watching.

Remus really just wanted to go home, but that wasn’t in his cards.

Easing himself down the stairs once more, he left the key for Rosmerta, giving her a kiss and passing on a firm hug to Aberforth before vowing he would be bringing Teddy by—and yes he did know Welsh because Remus wasn’t going to abandon _everything_ to the English. Then he got in the car and ignored the ache in his lower back, and started out on the road.

He arrived in Cardiff hours before the show was meant to start, so he found himself a little café to grab something to eat, wishing he had more of his mud coffee and maybe one of Aberforth’s pasties, but instead grabbed a scone and latte with soya. 

He checked his email again, sending one off to Gideon to let him know that _yes_ he’d gotten to Cardiff, and _yes,_ he’d be at the show, and _yes_ , he would bloody well have the piece written up before the deadline.

It was halfway through his email he realised he hadn’t bothered with accommodations for that night and was half wondering how much his body would hate him if he just said fuck it and slept in the car after the show. He reckoned he’d just make it work somehow instead—somewhere would have an empty room, and he carefully made his way to the venue.

It was a newer place, gaining popularity with the younger millennial crowd which he could appreciate as they were the ones who kept skyrocketing these youtube music artists straight onto the charts and some had a surprising amount of talent. It helped because the boring, straight, white blokes whining into the mic about how their girlfriends have left because she couldn’t handle their massive testosterone or whatever it was these straight, white blokes whined about these days—were slowly being weeded out in favour of relatable material.

Which was going to be the topic of Remus’ review provided this Sirius Black person actually wasn’t one of those. He was hoping. And by the state of the crowd it did look promising. Sort of.

Remus found himself a small table, provided by a security person who took one look at the crutches and Remus wanted to be annoyed, but mostly he wanted to sit and have a pint. So he did. And some weird little act who half-sounded like she was singing on a bumpy road in a car with no shocks opened up the show.

He made a mental note to look her up because stranger things had happened.

Then the lights went down and Remus closed his eyes and thought about Si for a long moment as he finished off the last of his pint. The crooning guitar opened up with a Stones cover which was pleasantly surprising, and as Remus looked up, he thought for a moment his heart would bloody beat out of his chest.

Because Sirius Black was sat on the stage.

And Remus knew him.

Because Remus had picked him up on the side of the road.

He could barely focus on the lyrics, on the singing. Sirius was good, really good. So good Remus knew he ought to be paying attention, but all he could think was how he’d picked him up on the side of the road and he’d been gone by morning.

And now he was here.

Had he known?

Sirius hadn’t appeared to have seen Remus at all, which was all well and good. It left Remus the chance to leave if he needed to. If he wanted to. 

He felt rooted to the table, and he knew getting up would draw attention and he knew Sirius would recognise his gait then. And when the time came for his interview back stage and Remus didn’t show—it would be only too obvious.

And Gideon would sack him for sure.

Of course maybe Gideon would understand what position he was in now that he knew he’d gone to sleep with the musician the night before.

Of course this was all semantics because Remus wasn’t going anywhere. How could he? 

It was over before he realised it, and Remus was profoundly aware he had nothing to base his review off because all he’d gotten done was replay the entire evening and night before in his head, then stared at the way Sirius’ neck line moved when he sang, and the way his hair hung over the guitar, and the way his face seemed to meld into the lyrics like he was part of them, not just singing them. 

But the time had come and he had his pass to go back stage and he had his crutches in hand. Carefully moving round the crowd, Remus eased the door open after flicking his pass at the lone guard who looked like he’d probably have let Remus through anyway.

He could hear voices back there, and he immediately recognised one as Sirius, and his tone was tense and high.

“…don’t even know who’s coming back here. For fuck’s sake, Peter! It could be some lunatic from some religious anti-trans faction or something.”

“Well I’d never do _that_ ,” the second voice argued.

“So you say, but you can’t even remember this person’s name or who they write for and I’m just supposed to deal with it? I’d sack you if Jamie hadn’t begged me.”

“I know,” and the voice sounded almost bored and rather used to being told off. “Honestly you seem more tense than usual.”

“Do I?” Sirius asked, his voice high and tight. “Well could have something to do with having to thumb my way from Scotland…”

“James said you met someone.”

“Fuck off, Peter.”

The door banged open, and a shorter man with blonde hair and watery blue eyes stumbled out. He gave Remus and up and down look. “For the interview?”

Remus hummed an affirmative noise, and instead of Peter actually bothering to check Remus’ credentials, he just waved him at the door, giving his crutches a wary look before hurrying off.

Remus suffered it with a little patience as he used the tip of his crutch to wedge the door open, then grabbed the handle and heaved it wide. He stepped into a small room—made up to look like a dressing room but it was barely bigger than a broom cupboard really, the small sofa taking up most of the room along with a vanity table, and the lighting was very poor.

Sirius was sat at the vanity using a wet bit of paper to clear off makeup from his face, and Remus wasn’t sure if he could see him in the mirror, or if the sound of the crutches gave him away, but a second later, Sirius turned with wide eyes.

“Oh my god.”

Remus licked his lips and then just started speaking. “Methu credu ti nol fan hyn! Dwi methu credu fi ‘di dod cefn llwyfan a fi rili eisiau dy gusanu di fel dylai wedi neithiwr…”

Several moments passed before Sirius smiled and shook his head. “That sounds all wonderful. Or potentially terrifying. But it wasn’t English.”

“Fuck, sorry,” Remus breathed, and wondered for a second if he’d been given a reprieve—especially if Sirius didn’t feel the same way. “Did you know I was coming here?”

Sirius blinked rapidly. “No. But surely you had some idea…”

“You told me your name was Si, and your flyer isn’t more than a silhouette.”

Sirius blanched. “Ah. Well. Right.”

Remus worried his bottom lip and squeezed the handles on his crutches so hard his knuckles went white and ached. “So the Universe?”

Sirius barked a laugh and finally rose from the chair, taking several steps toward Remus. “I should have kissed you last night.”

Remus felt like all the air was being sucked out of the room, but he was nodding anyway, and Sirius was moving closer, and fuck, _fuck_ he was cupping Remus’ cheeks between those gorgeous, stupidly slender fingers. His palms were so warm against Remus’ face and his breath smelled of mint and something else. Something spicy.

“Yeah I’d kind of like to kiss you right now if that’s alright with you?”

“I’d say yes, definitely. And please,” Remus breathed out.

Sirius allowed a small laugh before closing the distance and kissing him long and slow. Remus lit up like a bloody menorah and his entire body was singing. He let go of one crutch, using the other to balance whilst his hand fisted hard in the front of Sirius’ shirt and tugged him closer. They were lined up, every inch nearly pressed together and Remus started to laugh because he was getting dizzy with want.

Eventually Sirius chuckled too, and the kiss broke, though he kept their foreheads together. “So.”

Remus licked his lips. “So.”

“I’ve got a room.”

Remus laughed again, almost hysterical. “I forgot to book mine.”

“Heading to London after this?”

Remus closed his eyes and let himself kiss Sirius again who responded easy and willing and wanting. “Yeah,” he murmured against those lips. “Yeah I am.”

*** 

Remus woke to the sun filtering through a too-clean window, and although the room was chilly, the beam of light was too warm. He also became profoundly aware of an arm round his waist holding him close, and soft breath ghosting rhythmically along his shoulder.

As he shifted, grey eyes peeked open, and a small smile curved across Sirius’ mouth. He shifted, pressing his soft, warm chest against Remus’ side and kissed Remus’ bare shoulder. “Hi.”

Remus chuckled. “Hi. Did I wake you?”

“Mm, a little, but I can’t possibly be upset about that.” He reached out his hand, curling his fingers in and dragged his knuckles down Remus’ cheek. “Sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” Remus said in a breathy voice. “I actually did.” It wasn’t a lie. He had slept brilliantly, warm and felt so safe which was new. And unexpected as in spite of how he might feel like Sirius was on to something about this whole Universe thing, Sirius was nearly a stranger.

“Good.” Sirius tipped his head up a little, stretching his arm further across Remus’ chest. “Can I have a morning kiss?”

Remus turned, unable to stop a chuckle as he cupped Sirius’ cheek. “I have disgusting morning breath.”

“And I,” Sirius said, pushing his nose against Remus’, “don’t much give a fuck.”

Remus laughed a little harder as he closed the distance between them and pressed their mouths together. It was mostly chaste, but so warm and so lovely and Remus felt his head getting a little dizzy.

Sirius hummed, moving his face into the crook of Remus’ neck and nosed at the skin there. “You want to date me properly, Remus?”

Remus’ eyebrow raised. “Well you don’t waste time, do you?”

“Not when the most gorgeous bloke in the world picks me up on the side of the road, then shags me rotten, and wakes up in the morning and kisses me. You think I’m not going to hold tight…”

Remus yanked Sirius closer. “Yeah. I’ll be your boyfriend.”

*** 

**Six Months Later**

Remus laughed when Sirius wedged himself between his crutches and shoved his face into Remus’ neck. Leaning one crutch against the wall, Remus put his arm round Sirius’ waist and hitched him close, kissing the side of his neck.

They were in the Hog’s Head, and Sirius had just handed six months old Harry into Rosmerta’s arms who looked like she was over the moon at the wide-eyed, very smiley baby. James and Lily had gone for a long walk round the village to enjoy the countryside, James exclaiming the entire drive about the beauty of the Welsh Countryside and took the first opportunity to drag his wife out into the fresh air.

Teddy was sat on the top of the bar, threading his fingers through Aberforth’s long beard, chattering away in Welsh earning Remus a rather pleased grin from his pseudo granddad.

“I’m happy,” Sirius muttered against the side of Remus’ neck, kissing him again. “So bloody fucking happy.”

Remus moved his hand from Sirius’ waist to his hair, then tipped his head up for a long, slow kiss. “So am I, you know? Because I love you so much.”

They’d said it before, but every time the words slipped past his lips, Sirius lit up bright and happy. He hummed, turning in Remus’ arms and wrapped his hands round the back of Remus’ neck. “I love you too.”

Remus glanced round at his childhood home, and with Sirius in his arms he knew this was exactly where he meant to be in life. He knew he would fight for this. With his whole being, because this was his everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations- 
> 
> Mae 'di fod yn amser ers I fi gweld ti, Remus- It's been a while since I saw you.
> 
> Sori, fi 'di bod yn brysur- Sorry, I've been Busy
> 
> A mae gin ti ffrind- And you have a friend?
> 
> Odd e ar ochr yr heol. Mae'n edrych yn digon diniwed-- He was on the side of the road. He looked innocent enough.
> 
> Prydferth, hefyd-- Pretty too
> 
> Ie. Sylwais hyna-- Yeah I noticed that
> 
> Bydd yn ofalus-- Be careful
> 
> Methu credu ti nol fan hyn! Dwi methu credu fi 'di dod cefn llwyfan a fi rili eisiau dy gusanu di fel dylai wedi neithiwr- I can't believe you're actually here. I can't believe I actually came back stage and I should go but all I really want to do is kiss you like I should have last night...


End file.
